Page 63 of Unleashed

“Zara got me these for my birthday.” Maren fingers one protectively. “Because I love caterpillars.”

“They’re great earrings.” I take my place across the table from her. “Zara has awesome taste in jewelry.”

“I made Trevor a bracelet.” Zara lifts her wrist. “It matches ours.”

Ours?

My eyes snap to where Maren sits across from me. Sure enough, circling her wrist, right next to the band of her smartwatch, is a bracelet almost identical to the one I’m wearing.

“Because now we’re all best friends.” Zara digs into her eggs, chewing through the mouthful, completely oblivious to what she’s just done.

The seed she’s planted in my brain.

I can’t let it grow, but I’m worried I also won’t be able to let it go. Not now that I know what it’s like to wake up with them close. What it’s like to go to sleep knowing they’re safe and warm, and that anyone who wants to get close to them will have to get through me first.

And I’ve got a lot of stress and frustration to work out thanks to the bullshit that started with Dead Dan. The same bullshit that’s likely responsible for my obsession with keeping the people I care about safe.

We finish breakfast, Zara chattering happily about the plan for the day while I try to rein myself in. I clean up the kitchen while Maren gets Zara ready. When they come out of Zara’s room, the little girl is fully decked out in a jean skirt, flower print leggings, and a striped sweater. Maren has woven Zara’s dark hair into a set of braids that each end with a ribbon. A pair of coordinating boots dotted with pink glitter complete the outfit.

Maren looks great, don’t get me wrong, but it’s clear she put more effort into Zara’s look than she did her own.

Which seems to be a trend.

Maren always puts her sister first, in pretty much every way. From the size of their bedrooms, to the items filling their home. Maren is up early to take her sister to school and stays out late shuttling Zara from one activity to another. It’s something I respect deeply about her.

But it also bothers the hell out of me to see all the sacrifices Maren has made. It makes me wish I could do more for her. Figure out some way to take just a little off her plate.

Unfortunately, the best I can offer is money and broken promises.

“Are you ready to go, Trevor?” Zara bounces in place as Maren gets her situated in the seat of her wheelchair.

I grin as she wiggles around, making her sister’s job way more difficult. “I am. And if you sit still, we’ll get on the road a lot faster.”

Maren gives me a once-over as she finishes belting Zara in. “Are you seriously going to the petting zoo in a suit?”

“Of course I’m not going to the petting zoo in a suit.” As soon as she hooks her bag over the back of Zara’s chair, I step in between them, gripping the handles. “That’s why we’re stopping at my house on our way.”

I know Maren’s nervous about bringing Zara to my house, but it’s probably better to rip that Band-Aid off now. It’s going to happen sooner or later, and I think she’s going to be pleasantly surprised at how little her sister genuinely cares about the differences between their home and mine.

“Why don’t you go home and then we can meet at the petting zoo?” Maren trails behind me as I wheel Zara out the door and down the ramp, maneuvering the chair the same way I’ve watched her do a number of times. “I’m sure the last thing you want is us invading your sacred space.”

I snort, because it seems she’s been reading me all wrong. “My space isn’t sacred.”

Not the way she thinks anyway.

Maren lifts her brows. “I’ve seen your office. I can only imagine what the inside of your house looks like.”

“It’s nice, don’t get me wrong.” I push Zara to her side of the van. “But it’s not the sort of house people get comfortable in.”

It happened by accident. Since I didn’t have anywhere else to direct my somewhat obsessive tendencies, they ended up zeroing in on my home. I became completely engrossed in turning it into exactly what I wanted it to be. When I wasn’t working, I was scrolling through furniture options and perusing wallpaper samples. It gave me something to anticipate. Was a project I could participate in, while not having to control or micromanage.

And then it was done, and I felt remarkably… Unsatisfied.

Having the home of my dreams was depressingly unfulfilling. I know my brothers think it’s my pride and joy, but it’s neither. I like it, but it doesn’t fill the void the way I hoped it would.

I still let them give me shit about it, and pretend their assumptions are right. That’s much easier to face than the reality of all I can never have.

Maren snorts as she presses the button to open the door and unfurl the ramp. “I don’t believe you. I’ve been to your mother’s house, and it’s insanely gorgeous, while also more than comfortable.”